Brought By Love!
by Innocent-BlackStar
Summary: Lovina, representing South Italy, always felt inferior to her little sorella, Feliciana, representing North Italy, and so she's always harsh, rude, and proud. comparing herself to her sister, she was only able to see the negative. Then a country of passion comes along, and opens her eyes to see her full self, good and all.


**A/N: ...I can't believe I'm back. Welp. Here's some Spain x Nyo!Romano. It's cute, alright?! **

**And I even wrote swear words for this story! oAo Btw, I used Google for some of the translations and some of the others... Other stories I guess. **

* * *

_ Lovina had__ problems and she damn well knew it. She just had troubles getting people to understand that. She had the mouth of a sailor, and wasn't afraid to let people hear her opinions. She was a woman of pride and dignity, and the world should know it; after all, she was the personification of South Italy! She had the damn mafia under her fingertips! The last thing she needed to bring her walls down was something as useless and stupid as love, and God seemed to hate her in life. It was when Spain/Antonio Fernandez Carriedo came, that her walls began to crumble._

"Stupid tomato bastard… He should know that I have responsibilities to keep up, _si_? I don't have time for this shit…" she muttered. Spain or Antonio had sent her on an errand to purchase more tomatoes—they were running out. Lovina was glad he noticed the decline on the shelves, but he could have sent another servant to do his shopping!

"Tomatoes, tomatoes, tomatoes… Where are the damn tomatoes…?! Ah. Here it is…" she waltzed her way to the painted stand and reached into her pocket for her money.

"A bag." The seller nodded and pulled up her request, holding his hand out for the money. Lovina complied and held the bag of tomatoes at her side. She marched towards the mansion, basking in its golden glory and walked inside the massive double doors.

"I'm back, tomato bastard…" Lovina was met with a warm welcome as always, his smile never wavering. The Italian liked to call his smiles, "the commit smiles." Once he smiled, he committed. No falters allowed, fucking period.

"_Hola_ Lovi! I was so lonely waiting for you!`" he came rushing to her, wrapping his tanned arms around her. Lovina's cheeks were dusted with pink as she stuttered, "L-let go of me! I-I still have work t-to do! _Stupido_! _And Lovi is not my name!_"

Antonio dismissed the insult and smiled, patting her head affectionately, and taking the bag of tomatoes from her. He was given a glare in return, yet his smile never wavered. Example, the commit smile.

"Okay, chica! I'll call you down for food later, _si_?" The Italian huffed in response and stormed up the stairs, her chocolate locks of curled hair sweeping across her back with each stride. She reached her room's door and swung it open, the smell of air freshener and tomatoes filling her nostrils. Lovina scowled as she rushed to her window, throwing the curtains open. Nothing ever beast the smell of the natural world where nothing is tainted by fucking gasoline and meaningless chatter. She grinned and lay on her freshly made bed, creating wrinkles that sprang along the sheets.

Lovina was quite tired. After all, she'd just sat through an entire meeting filled with hell; bickering nations and bosses, constant gossip and insults. Insults directed at her.

_Can't you be more lady-like?_

_A girl like that will never succeed with that language!_

_She can never compare to her sweet, dear sister!_

Her sister. She was what got her most; Lovina and her ever-so-sweet sister, Feliciana. Feliciana this, Feliciana that! It was always Feliciana wasn't it?! Lovina gave a frustrated groan. The Italian girl buried her face in her soft pillow, the fabric muffling her anger. Tears built up in her eyes and threatened to spill over her long lashes. She gave low growl and thrashed her legs. She was supposed to be resting, thinking over her day, and then her _sister_ had to come up! Lovina felt incredibly weak, feeling inferior to her little sister, but she couldn't help it! But it was true, wasn't it? Feliciana was always one for art, with her wondrous paintings and bubbly personality, being kind to every new face, with her air of innocence. Lovina was the complete opposite; she drew stick figures, and was not afraid to yell profanities and state her opinion loud and clear. Both were known for looks, but her dear sister always prevailed. It made Lovina insecure, but she was a prideful lady! She couldn't be so clingy!

A knock was heard from her door as Lovina looked up and at the door. She grabbed the pillow and hurled it at the door in anger. She was in a terrible mood and did not want to be fucked with at the moment. Thinking about her better sister was not fun.

"_Mi tomate_? Dinner is ready! We have tomatoes with it!" Lovina's heart melted. This Spaniard always knew how to make her day just _a little_ better without even knowing. She still had to keep her tough walls up, no time for love. She refused to love anytime soon!

"I'm coming, damn it!" she growled. Heavy footsteps retreated from her door and disappeared down the stairs. Reluctantly, she rolled off the mattress and quickly shifted to land on her feet. She trudged towards the door while yawning. _Quite the damn rest…_ she thought. Opening the door, the ragazza preceded down the stairs, her feet nimbly moving down the polished steps. Already she could smell the delicious smell of pasta. Pasta. Pasta? Lovina's eyes widened as she rushed downstairs. Her feet skidded to a stop when she reached the kitchen. Standing before her in all her innocent glory, was Feliciana Vargas, the personification of Northern Italy. The younger beauty gave a cute wave and stirred the food on the pan. _Pasta_. Something wasn't right, and Lovina knew it. It didn't smell as…_ Tomato-ey. _

"…_Sorella_?" she muttered.

"_Si_, Lovi?" Feliciana chimed.

"How many tomatoes did you put into your sauce?  
"Two, Lovi!"

"_Sorella_, that's _not enough!"_ she shrieked. 2 tomatoes?! It was supposed to be one more than that! The world was going to end without the needed amount of tomatoes! Tomatoes were one of the most important fruits (or vegetables) in the world! It was a _crime _not to put enough! It wouldn't taste right, and so—

"Lovi? Are you alright?" came in a worried voice. The two sisters spun around to face a concerned Spaniard. He stepped towards the distressed Italian girl and held her shoulders. "Calm down Lovi…" The said Italian's face turned a bright shade of red and she gave him a glare.

"I'm fine, tomato bastard!" She huffed. Her attention was yet again, directed it the pasta being cooked.

"Ah, I'm sorry, Lovi! I-I'll add more tomato for you!" Feliciana busied herself with grabbing the remaining tomato on the counter. Lovina watched in satisfaction; she'd just prevented a certainly less delicious dinner (Tomatoes made it all the better!). Antonio gave warm laugh as he noticed the source of Lovina's anguish. It was adorable, and he loved that part of Lovina; she could get flustered so easily! Lovina, on the other hand, flushed red, seeing the Spaniard laugh.

"W-what are you laughing about tomato bastard?! She almost served the pasta with _salsa di pomodoro,_ without enough tomato! An entire tomato _less_!"  
"You're so cute, Lovi! You look like a tomato yourself!" he continued his laughter and ruffled her shiny, brown hair, brushing her bizarre curl in the process. Lovina's eyes widened as her legs began to tremble. Her face became a look of horror and embarrassment and she shot Antonio a furious glare.

"Chigi!" she howled, and the dark haired Italian made a mad dash for the top of the stairs. She scrambled for her room and burst inside, not caring that the servants around her gave her looks of disapproval and surprise. Lovina threw herself onto her welcoming bed and buried her crimson face into her pillow.

_Idiota, idiota…Idiota! You don't pull my curl damn it! You just don't! Don't fucking touch the curl!_

* * *

**A/N: Pomodoro is tomato. You can probably guess the rest of the translations. My writing skills are terrible, so uh... Bear that in my. TILL NEXT TIME... **


End file.
